A bloody haze of madness
by Kiba aru Tenshi
Summary: Hehe..you've got to love those crazy Malkavains...and no, I'm not on drugs X_x


A Bloody haze of Madness  
  
Author's note: This story is based on Vampire: The Masquerade. It's kind of old (but then again, so is my OTHER story about Tzevi and Reed.) But I liked it so I put it up here. I don't...really know what I was on when I wrote it. 9_9  
  
"Downside up. Upside Down. Take my weight from the ground. Falling deep in the sky. Slipping in the unknown"--Peter Gabriel  
  
okamanootoko@aol.com  
  
  
Rain. I hate the rain. The way it drips down and oozes over your dead skin and sticks to your hair and neck. The way it makes you feel dirty when you've just had a shower, and you feel repulsive until the next time you can hop in the bath. Yep, I hate the rain, and it hates me. However it seems to have a fondness for the city I live in, St. Louis. Of course, what better way to piss off your foe then by rubbing yourself in their face? Especially when there's nothing I can do about it. I could grab at it, try to ring its neck and kill it, but then those around me would regard me as a loony. I don't want to be seen as insane, at least...not until the timing is right.  
  
They call me crazy. The power-hungry politicians of the undead society. They call me crazy because of what I have become, what I was made, mind you, not what I chose. I have seen crazy; crazy is Norman Bates in Psycho. I do not suffer from delusions nor do I believe my body is a vessel for two different personalities. I do not break out in frenzies or talk to inanimate objects. No, I've seen crazy, and that's not me. I am educated, intelligent, conniving, perhaps, aggressive, maybe, but not crazy.   
  
As I walk down the street, the pouring rain casting shadows of drops in the streetlights and making me shiver, I ponder those Kindred that condemn me because of my lineage. They condemned me because of stereotypes about my insanity; I condemned them based on their ignorance and thick-headedness. Tell me, which seems to be the more reasonable hatred?  
  
They all think alike, act alike, react alike, move alike, and feed alike. Fucking puppets with nothing better to do then mime each other every waking moment of their unlives. Maybe this unending rain has gotten to them, made them eccentric, but not me. I'm normal, as normal as a member of the undead society can be.  
  
It's Cameron, my name that is. At least that's what I'll tell you, as perhaps even I have forgotten my true identity. It means "one with a crooked nose" or so I read in one of those grocery store Baby name books. What the hell is that supposed to mean and who the hell thought it up? If I could meet the guy, or girl, I'd whack him upside the head, piss ant.   
  
So, Cameron walks down the street. Cameron watches as two kine scamper away under the cover of a newspaper. Cameron laughs as he decides to play a game with the two kine. Cameron flounces after the two singing the Turtles song "You don't have to walk in the Rain." Cameron watches as the couple hurries their pace, deciding to get away from the wet Malkavain before his insanity turns violent. Cameron hears as the man calls him "batty." And that's what sets Cameron over the edge. Cameron disappears behind a streetlight, and watches as the couple slows, realizing he's gone, or so they think. Cameron appears in front of the two, giggling as he grabs the girl by her thick red hair and twirls her around. Cameron thinks she probably wants to dance, she looks like a dancer. Cameron grins as the man tries to grab him and shove him away from Cameron's new friend. Cameron simply grabs the male kine by his neck and embraces him, his sharp claws digging into the man's neck, piercing the carotid artery. Cameron hopes it's the carotid artery, as he took First Aid so long ago. He stops to ponder it, Brachial in the arm....Femoral in the leg, so Carotid has to be in the neck, right? Cameron shrugs, not really caring, and bends down to feed off the man's spilled blood. Cameron knows that wasted vitae is bad vitae, and to never look a gift horse in the mouth. Cameron giggles maddeningly as he watches the girl out of the corner of his eye, watching as she gasps in horror as Cameron drinks her boyfriend's blood, and starts screaming. Cameron frowns and drops the empty kine and turns to his new girlfriend. Cameron realizes she's making too much noise, and may attract some unwanted attention, so Cameron slits her throat with his 5-inch blade he keeps in his pocket. Cameron doesn't want the pretty redhead to die, though, so he drinks her blood and gives her a little back. Cameron realizes that the Prince Shyrde may not enjoy hearing about Cameron's little expedition, but Cameron doesn't care, he likes Pretty girl. Cameron decides her new name is Damita, little princess, and drags her away, leaving the empty male behind. Cameron shrugs, wondering if it'll be a kindred or kine that will stumble upon the body first. He hopes it's kindred, he'll get in less trouble that way.   
  
I really hate whiners, and Damita is whining a bit too much for me. But the poor little whelp is just hungry, poor thing. She'll get used to the burning hunger that propels you forward, even when all you want to do is lay down and die. She's probably upset because of the rain, I know it's getting on my nerves but, like I said, I can't command the clouds, I can't get them to stop pissing on me, if I could...don't you think I would of done it by now? Of course I would...stupid.  
  
Back in my apartment and sit Damita down in front of the T.V. and pop in my favorite tape, Pink Floyd's The Wall. She watches with awe as it starts, fascinated by the vacuum cleaner and the chubby lady.  
"It gets much better." I promise her, and she nods eagerly, her eyes fixed on the screen. Children, so easily amused, but at least it keeps her mind off of her hunger for now, after all I did let her have that rat I plucked off of the street. Mmmm, now that's good eating.  
  
I hum the song "Comfortably Numb" to myself as I busy myself with this little artwork I've been working on. Candy wraps, gum wraps, people's trash, and I've transformed it into a 3-D landscape of a Carnival. And they say the Toreador are artistic, they don't match me, babe, they don't match me. They're all Pisantes...that's "Piss Ants" in Spanish, don't you know.  
  
I hear knocking on my door, and I groan as I look through the peephole, which has been painted over in black. All I see is black when I squint my eyes. Another black shadow, I figured just as much.  
I open the door to see an average sized man, 5'8ish, and lean. His hair is neatly combed back and his shirt is unbuttoned partially underneath a black custom-made suit. He's a Ventrue, sure as I am standing here, and so I let him in. Piss them off and you have an entire pack of them on your case. Pischangts...that's "Piss Ants" in German, don't you know.   
  
"Guten Tag." I greet him as he enters. The first thing he notices (and he doesn't say hi, keep in mind) is Damita, staring as a dove bursts into a mass of blood and gore on the screen. She utters a low "ooohhh." Unmindful of the Ventrue's presence.   
  
"We got word that you've made quite a mess, Wesley." The man tells me, unamused by Damita's antics as she claps her hands and cheers. He looks at me, but I'm staring out the window and noticing that the rain has stopped. Good, man that was quite a leak those clouds took, I wonder who won the pissing competition?   
  
"Wesley?" He puts his hand on my shoulder, which I shrug off. I hate contact with people, too many germs.  
  
"The man from the west." I utter, I hate to admit it but I had the entire baby names book memorized. I stood in the Grocery store for hours, in the cold section, with my finger dipped in some ice cream, reading it, memorizing it. They finally kicked me out, but not before I chucked the carton of "Ben and Jerry's Double Fudge Brownie" at the man's balding head. Piss ant, I'm too tired to think in any foreign languages for now.  
  
So the Kindred is starting to make me angry now, the mosquitoes are about to venture out of their haven to dance and sing their haunting songs of death, and swarm like locusts over the population of hosts, the unwitting life force behind these mosquitoes. The thing these cocky mosquitoes don't realize is that a much larger, stronger, tick and his army of fleas aren't too happy about their infestation of his territory. Oh, and when the tick gets mad, he gets mad. I must lock myself up in my bathroom so I do not become a part of this madness.   
  
Madness, madness, madness...that's all there is these days. Madness and blood. I see blood every night, and I'm sure I would see it in the morning if I could wake up then. No...I'm asleep in the morning because I could not "banish the garish sun..."  
  
By the way...that's from Romeo and Juliet. I didn't like the play...it was unrealistic. Unrealistic...hell, everything's unrealistic. I'm a fucking walking corpse, and that isn't unrealistic? More plausible then two dead lusty lovers, I suppose...  
  
Back to reality, back to reality, calling all stations. Can anybody tell me, tell me exactly where I am? I've lost my sense of direction, watching the darkness closing around me. Feeling the cold all through my body...That's why I'm calling all stations, in the hope that someone hears me. A single lonely voice.  
  
"MY NAME IS CAMERON!" I scream, and in a bloody rage I grab the Ventrue's neck and hurl him across the room. I'm in a frenzy, I don't know what brought on the frenzy, but something did, and now it won't cease until this 'Blue Blood' is dead.  
  
He slams into the wall and his neck makes a loud snap. Like a stale Kit Kat bar that was hard to break apart, and he lets out this low moan, his eyes rolling back in his head. But I'm not done yet, I'm pissed that this guy thinks my name is Wesley, I'm Cameron damn it! I always will be.  
  
"Damita..." I whisper and she looks up attentively, I point at the unconscious Ventrue.  
  
"Ever heard of Diablerie?" I grin at her, a toothy grin. My fangs couldn't help but poke out to say hello. Of course she hasn't heard of diablerie, she's been a vampire for...what, an hour now?  
She shakes her head but bounces over to me anyway, giggling. "I know you're hungry, Damita, so feed...feed!"  
  
She starts toward me, but I push her away. "The Ventrue stupid! You can't have my blood."  
  
She widens her eyes, not understanding, but flounces over to the Ventrue. Then the smell of blood overwhelms her, and her natural beast takes over. She rips into the Ventrue's flesh; she'll learn the fine art of moderation in nights to come, as it is I'm just enjoying the show.  
  
When she's done the Ventrue is nothing but a bloody heap of flesh and bones, and Damita's entire face is covered in his blood. Shaking my finger at her I wipe her face off with a handkerchief.  
  
"You've ruined my furniture, what if someone comes to see what happened to the 'Blue Blood' and they see his blood? Naughty."  
  
"Sorry." Damita looks down, but I only smile.  
  
"That's ok, Carter would have wanted it that way."  
  
"Who's Carter?" She asks, looking at me curiously.  
  
"Only my god, he follows me around."  
  
"Can I meet him?"  
  
"Tomorrow....tomorrow. If tomorrow comes."  
  
I say, leading her to my back room where we shall sleep until the sun sets again.  
  
"But tomorrow, I fear, the tick will arise and consume the mosquitoes...and as I am one of those mosquitoes...maybe it's best to stay inside. Stay inside and watch the anime 'Vampire Hunter D' on my new DVD player."  
  
Vampire Hunter D...what a hoot. If only every vampire was as obvious as Count Magnus Lee. If only vampires could procreate so a vampeal actually could exist and become a vampire hunter...hmm...if only vampires only picked on the pretty ones. Then I wouldn't be so worried about them, then I wouldn't be one of the damned.  
  
  
Tsk...the sun is on the rise.  
  



End file.
